♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦
second chance at first line
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
ALLISON, DALLAS, AND LYDIA all watched lacrosse practice from the bleachers. Their day so far was pretty boring, the Garcia's cheer practice was cancelled to make more room for the lacrosse players, so she had a free period - along with Lydia and Allison - to watch Coach yell at the boys for the hundredth time that day.
"Let's go!" Finstock whistled. "One-on-ones from up top. Jackson, grab a long stick today."
Scott zoned out as he watched the violent game unfold before his eyes. Players slammed into each other and fell against the rough land, letting out grunts of pain and winces as they did so. "McCall!" he hollered to the boy who was at the front of the line. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"
The whistle echoed through his ears as he steadily paced towards Jackson, who knocked him from his feet within an split second. Dal flickered her eyes to Lydia as she heard a shallow laugh leave her glossed lips.
"Hey, McCall!" the coach strutted over to the fallen boy, chuckles breaking up his words. "My grandma can move faster than that.. and she's dead!"
Stiles noticed his best friend tense up and swallowed anxiously. "You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?"
"Yes, coach." The werewolf spoke through gritted teeth.
Finstock leaned over to whisper to the boy. "I can't hear you."
Scott noticed the smug look that Jackson held on his face as he backed off. "Yes, coach."
"Then do it again."
Allison frowned worriedly at her sort-of-boyfriend and shared a look with Dallas. "McCall's gonna do it again!" Finstock repeated.
Dallas winced at the testosterone that radiated from the field and let out a breath. "This isn't gonna end well."
Jackson steadied his position in the middle of the field, glaring down at the lycan. The whistle echoed through the dim field and Scott pounced towards the Lacrosse Captain. Scott's shoulder harshly slammed against his as the Whittmore fell on his backside, cradling his shoulder with grunts of pain.
The three girls gasped, watching how McCall fell to his knees not moments later. Stiles uncapped his helmet and ran to aid his best-friend while the other players crowded around Jackson. "Scott?"
Coach Finstock knelt beside Jackson and shooed away the others. Dallas noticed the faint whispering between Scott and Stiles and furrowed her brows. They were hiding something - she was sure of it. Especially when she noticed the two cower away from the field and into the locker room, the familiar of face of Derek Hale watching them.
"Hey, I'll be right back," she mumbled to Lydia and Allison, who gave subtle nods and hums in response.
She slouched her bag over her shoulder and made her way towards the changing rooms. Halfway down the hall, she heard the familiar voice of Scott McCall, but his voice was full of pain and anger.
Her speed picked up as she heard the noises of clashing metal, yelling and growling. Stiles Stilinski fell out of the doorway, a fire extinguisher in hand.
"Stiles?" she ran over to him and helped him to his feet. He sent her a crazed, worried look and stuttered.
"D-Dallas?" he gulped. "No - no you can't go in there!" he pulled her back by her wrist as she attempted to walk inside the locker room.
He heard the clamoring of Scott McCall and pushed the brunette behind him. The werewolf stood in the doorway - his helmet was removed and his face was drenched in sweat. "What happened?"
The brunette crossed her arms and flickered her eyes between the two. "Yeah, that's what I'd like to know, why'd you go all King Kong on Jackson?"
Scott stumbled over his sentences and shot a pleading look to Stiles, who seemed just as speechless."Well, uh-"
She rolled her eyes and walked away from the two. "You guys are super weird."
Stiles waited until she was out of view and punched his friend in the arm. "You tried to kill me, man. It's the anger, it's your pulse rising. Its a trigger. You could've killed Dallas, too."
"Did she see anything?" The werewolf raised his head while panic laced his tone.
"No.. I don't think so."
Scott nodded and ran a hand over his face. "Its lacrosse, Stiles. It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed."
"Well, its gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field." he breathed heavily. "You can't play Saturday. You are gonna have to get out of the game.
"But I'm first line."
"Not anymore."
⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰
Dallas didn't bother mentioning Stiles's odd behaviour to Allison or Lydia. He had always been a little rough around the edges, but nothing weird enough to get him transferred to Eichen House or anything.
The werewolf made note of this, as his girlfriend seemed just as clueless as usual at Lunch. He sat slouched in front of his computer with his grey hoodie thrown over his broad shoulders. A skype call was opened in a browser and Stiles's pixelated face stared back at him.
"What'd you find out?" Scott gave the buzzcut boy an exhausted look as he pretended to shoot him with his neon green toy gun.
Stiles sighed heavily, dropping the toy. "Well, it's bad. Jackson's got a separated shoulder."
"Because of me?"
"Because he's a tool."
Scott's thick eyebrows furrowed. "But is he gonna play?
The Stilinski fumbled with a Rubix cube that sat on his desk. "Oh, they don't know yet," he mumbled. "Now, they're just counting on you for Saturday."
Scott dropped his head to his lap as his best friend's face became increasingly more alarmed, leaning forward to examine Scott's camera.
The werewolf gave him an anxious look. "What?"
He gave him a worried look before placing his keys on the keyboard, a little chat bubble appearing to the left of the screen.
'It looks like-'
Stiles' camera froze as the McCall read the text aloud. "It looks like what?" He watched the loading screen intently, swallowing hard. "Come on, damn it."
'- someone's behind you.'
The rest of the text loaded abruptly, causing Scott to lean backward and resize his camera angle, only now noticing the dark figure that stood silently in the corner of his room.
As he tried to turn around, the figure grabbed him from behind and slammed him against his closet door. "I saw you on the field." Derek Hale seethed into his ear, a fierce grip on his neck.
"What are you talking about?" Scott murmured out a weak excuse but was spoken over by the older werewolf.
"You shifted in front of them." he raised his voice to a sharp tone. "And it looks like I'm not the only one who saw. Your little cheerleader friend ran after you, didn't she?"
"Dallas saw nothing!"
"How can you be so sure? If they find out what you are, they find out about me, about all of us," he growled. "And then it's not just the hunters after us, its everyone."
"She didn't see anything, I swear. Nobody did-"
"And they won't." the Hale tightened his grip. "Because if you even try to play in that game on Saturday, I'm gonna kill you myself." he remained silent for a few moments before leaving a warning.
"And if you want my advice, new guy, you'll make sure to steer clear from the Garcias."
and with one swift move, Derek Hale had disappeared from the McCall house.
⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰
In the afternoon of the next day, Scott made his way through the high school halls as a text message from his mother came through on his phone. He sucked in a breath, his mother was coming to see him play and he was planning on not even attending.
"Hey." Allison Argent caught his attention from the stairwell, holding her black jacket in one hand. "Busy?"
A golden retriever smile swept across his face as he gazed at her. "No, no, it's just my mom. She's nothing."
Allison gave him a peculiar look before he corrected himself. "I mean, it's nothing. Im never busy for you." he caught himself, eyes wide.
"I like the sound of that." she giggled. "Um, I have to run to French class, but I wanted you to know that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow."
"You are?"
"-And we're all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Dallas maybe, Jackson." she smiled. "It's gonna be great. Tell Stiles to come to."
Scott thought back to what Derek had told him - steer clear of the Garcias - whatever that meant. "Save me a seat at lunch, I gotta go." she waved him goodbye, leaving the boy speechless.
As Scott approached his locker, he was roughly yanked back by his best friend. "Tell me what they're saying."
They both peeked beside the wall as Sheriff Stilinski, Principal Thorne, James Garcia, and another officer all stood at the bottom of the hallway. "What is Dallie's dad doing here?" Stiles commented, but Scott hushed him.
"- We want everyone under the age of 18 to be in their home by 9:30 p.m." Noah Stilinski instigated as The Principal and Lawyer listened. "We'd like to institute the curfew effective immediately. Look, we don't wanna-"
Scott turned his head away. "Curfew because of the body."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable. My dad's out looking for a rabid animal while the jerkoff who actually killed the girl is just hanging out, doing whatever he wants."
"You can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek."
Stiles took a look at the adults who were mid-conversation in the hallway. "I can do something."
"Like what?"
"Find the other half of the body."
⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰
Dallas sat before her dad, poking at her food with her metallic fork. Despite convincing herself otherwise, Dallas knew there was something unusual with Scott McCall. Whether it was puberty, social awkwardness or the side effects of a first love - she wasn't quite sure about him.
"Dallie!" Her father clicked in front of her face to grab her attention. The brunette awoke from her daydreaming and hummed in response.
"Sorry, what?" she pulled her pink coral cardigan across her chest and raised an angled brow.
He chuckled and crossed his arms on the dinner table. "School, how was it?"
She looked down at her plate and pushed her food around her plate with her fork. "Oh, you know. Same old." the girl smirked slyly. "I think I've debated my way to a new set of cheer uniforms, though."
James gave her an amused look. "Atta-girl." his demeanor then became more serious as her head dropped back to her plate. "You know.. Noah asked me to take a look at the Jane Doe this morning, you know the one that was found in the woods?" he hid behind his glass and drank the soft liquid.
Dallas didn't pay much notice to it and continued to listen intently. "Mhm."
"He wanted to know if it could've been your mother."
The colour drained from her face while her throat felt dry and chest unreasonably tight. "And was it?" she managed to choke out from her hardened expression.
The eldest Garcia's eyes dropped to his plate. "No." She waited for her father to speak again, which he did. "But it could've been."
Dallas grabbed her plate and stood up from her seat. "I have homework to do."
James let out a disappointed sigh and spoke up from his seat. "Dallie, we have to talk about this eventually."
She brought her plate to the kitchen, mumbling an 'I know' before heading upstairs. Her father sat alone at the dining table and ran his hand over his face. There seemed to be no way to break down the walls his daughter had built around herself.
Reaching her bedroom, the brunette pushed her door shut with her back and let out a shaky breath, eyes welled up with tears. Her eyes glistened from the fairy lights that hung around her bed and the fuchsia lava lamp that sat on her dressing table. The polaroids of the teenager and her close friends were pinned against the wall, hanging above her basket of stuffed animals.
Dallas sat at her vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Pulling a few makeup wipes from her drawer, she wiped the smudged mascara from under her eyes and composed herself.
She wasn't ready to talk about it now and the way things were going... probably not ever.
☆ word count: 2,126. ☆